When the Karateka doesn’t come to the Dojo…
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It’s still hot and sunny outside and for days I found excuses not to work on my rewrite. Yesterday, finally, some phrases popped into my brain, so I ran upstairs and wrote for three hours. It was utter drivel, but that doesn’t matter. At least I was writing again.
I only became aware of the time when I heard voices from the neighbours’ downstairs. Another door salesman? Here, at the affluent end of Tadley Brook, we are popular. Everybody from Jehova’s Witnesses to British Gas people pay us visits and it incenses me because I don’t like to be interrupted. After all, these people would not call at my husband’s office. I frowned and got up to slam the window shut and cut out the noise when I heard the word ‘karate’ mentioned. Leaning forward I spotted a shaven-headed fit-looking guy in a GKR Karate T-shirt making his way to our door. I got there before him and he made an appointment to talk to us later that evening.
So, it looks as if we are going to start a brand-new style of karate as of tonight (training happens on Fridays and Mondays, so I figured why wait?). I like what I’ve found out so far. The style and training philosophy is similar to Shotokan, but there is more emphasis on kata with more advanced kata earlier on.
“We need to get some gis,” John said as soon as the guy had left.
“Check the box under the bed.”
He brought it down. “There are at least four gis in here!”
“Of course.” One was always in the wash while we wore the other. We used to train four times a week. That was six years ago.
“We’ll need white belts.”
I up-ended the box. The tally: gum shields, pads, strategic protectors, one yellow belt (where did that come from?), one brown-and-white belt, one brown belt and three white belts.
I shrugged: “No excuse now, it’s clearly meant to be.” I remembered that we used to swap belts after gradings; that collection of white belts was off-loaded by grateful beginners and intermediates in exchange for the various colours we accumulated. There are always more white belts around than say green or purple.
So this morning I got to work on the gis with a pack of Biotex. There were brown streaks around the waists from our belts and suspect flecks of what looks like rust, plus a big dollop of epoxy resin on the front of my Tokaido jacket. Worse, there were five pairs of trousers in various states of wear but only three jackets, one of which was frazzled at the sleeves and unwearable. I would have to put on that Tokaido jacket and look like a twat with it crossed over the wrong way in order to hide that stain. All the parts looked as if we had worked down a building site: stained with old sweat and various streaks. They had absorbed five years of hard training. Wearing white belts with those gis would guarantee that we look like twats.
New gis are going to cost us a hundred quid. In addition to the introductory membership fee of twenty-five quid each, expenses are already mounting before we have even set foot in the dojo. John is grumbling about money-making schemes, but aside from the fact that the guy we spoke to appeared sincere, there is nothing wrong with the instructors trying to make a living. I reminded him that we were no longer part of a university club.
I am looking forward to tonight. It will be fantastic to move like this again, although we both have to be careful not to pull a muscle or put out a joint. A while ago, we decided that Shotokan was too hard, that we should change to a system that is easier on the body, but we never did anything about it and it is rubbish anyway. Just an excuse. It will be great to get back into shape. This is what has been missing from our life in Tadley. I just hope we can train back at our level as soon as possible.
Naturally, we signed up exactly two weeks before my Greenlad-trip which means that I will miss the first grading in three weeks time and when I get back, John will have a white belt with a yellow tip. Boo-hoo.
Tags: Tadley Times, Tag Index
Denni